Dear Mum and Dad
by A Violin Geek
Summary: Neville never made it obvious that he was hurt. He never told anyone that he resented his parents for leaving him. He never told anyone how he coped with his hurt. He never told anyone how he wrote letters to the parents he never knew.


**Well, um, this is kind of embarrassing, but as I am me, I did forget to write an authors note, so here I am. Anyways, first things first, this is a one shot. I will not be continuing this story. REPEAT THIS IS A ONE SHOT. Hee hee. I like being weird. Okay, I'll stop now. **

**So, thank you to Marie E. Brooke and Greg-Chan for helping me edit and make it not as cheesy, and to Destruction's Daughter for following this story. **

**Disclaimer: Sure I own Harry Potter! What're you talking about? Fine. I'm not J.K. Rowling (although that would be awesome) and I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Please review someone, anyone, just someone please review! And now… On to my hopefully not terrible writing!**

In the inky darkness, the sound of even, steady breaths pierced the air. But one stream of breathing was not even, was not steady. The rushed, heaving breathing was so dense that it almost formed a shape in the frosty air. Slowly, as if it caused pain to do so, a pitch black shape rose from one of the beds on the ground. Pausing every few seconds, it rose to a standing position, shivering in the cool air. It stumbled drunkenly down a spiral staircase, its bunny-slippered feet making soft padding noises, to a homely circular room below. It settled down in front of a desk and pulled out a yellow tinged piece of parchment. It began to write, it's scrawl messy and jerky.

_Dear Mum and Dad, _it began. _Today I had my first lesson with the new professor, Professor Moody. He showed us the three curses. _There, the boy paused, and with a trembling hand, he dipped his quill back into the milky ink. _Did it really hurt that much? Were you screaming? Were you crying? Were you thinking of me?_ The boy was now sobbing, tears dripping down his face into a salty puddle near his feet. With a muffled scream, he grabbed the parchment and tore it into rough pieces. With the pieces softly floating down like snow, he grabbed at a small drawer at the bottom of the desk and yanked it open. Inside that hidden drawer were hundreds of letters. _Dear Mum and Dad, you won't believe what happened today. Harry Potter… _One began, but was soon cut off by another. _Dear Mum and Dad, today was horrible. Some Slytherin put a spell on me so I was frozen and had to hop all the way to the common room. I wish you were here. I miss you. _There an ancient piece of parchment overlapped and cut off the paragraph. _Dear Mum and Dad, when will I see you again? All my friends get letters from their parents. Gram is fine, but it would be even better to get one from you guys. _That innocent letter was soon replaced with a more somber one with quaky handwriting. _Dear Mum and Dad, Gram told me what really happened to you today. Will I really never meet the real you again? Is this another prank? Is Uncle Arby testing me again?_

Now with tears freely streaming down his face, the boy dumped the letters onto the ground. Hundreds of letters slowly drifted to the ground, as the boy slowly fell to his knees with silent sobs. With an muffled scream he thrust out his clammy, cold hands, desperately clawing at the torn parchment. "Why does it have to be me? Why am I always the one?" he whispered. "Why is it always me?!" he yelled into the dark room, ignoring the fact that other people could easily overhear him. "Why do _I_ have to be the one being ridiculed? Why is it me who's always target practice? Why is it me who sucks at school? For gods sake, my name is bloody Neville Long-BOTTOM!" he screamed.

"Shut up! For gods sake, look at the time, boy!" an angry voice shouted, piercing the air in its loudness. The boy gingerly turned his head to see a scowling general staring back at him.

"Pericles, who was yelling?" a lady holding an umbrella asked with sleep-fogged eyes.

"Oh, don't trouble yourself, Lady Saffron, it's just that Longbottom boy." Pericles answered with a tut.

"Ah, of course, his poor parents, who would want a son like him?" Lady Saffron responded with a tinkling laugh that faded softly into the darkness.

Neville fell to his bottom and sat there in shocked silence. "Yeah, my poor parents," he whispered. "to have a son like me. Not bright, not athletic, a good-for-nothing lump." HIs mouth twisted up in an effort to keep from crying, but still a few tears slid down his plump cheeks. For a while he sat there, curled up among the remains of letters addressed to the parents he never got to know. Finally, when the first signs of dawn began to show, he stirred. Slowly, he reached out and grabbed a stray paper.

_Dear Mum and Dad, _it read. _Today was amazing. This new teacher named Lupin came, and we got to do an activity with a boggart. I got to turn Professor Snape into Professor Snape wearing Gram's clothes! It was hilarious. I even earned points for my house! You should've seen Parvati's boggart. It turned into a mummy! Who knew? Anyways, I've got to go now. I know that this one's short, but Dean started a game of Exploding Snap! I've just got to beat Seamus this time. Love you, Neville._

With one last wistful look at the words _Mum and Dad_, Neville hastily crumpled it into a ball and chucked it into the fire. However, like he said, Neville was never the most athletic and missed completely, throwing the paper ball into the hard to reach space between the fire and the bricks.

For a brief moment, Neville closed his eyes in frustration. _Of course, _he thought. Suddenly, he gave a rueful smile. _Of course, that's just me: Neville Longbottom. _With a slight smile and a sigh, he got up from his position and sat down at the desk. Hesitating, he quickly pulled out a fresh piece of parchment before he changed his mind. In his dreadful scrawl, he began to write.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I know that you haven't received letters from me in a while, but I just couldn't send them until now. I did write them though, I just didn't send them. This is the first one that I'm actually sending since __you left me_ _I found out what happened to you. _Neville quickly dipped his quill back into the ink and scratched out _you left me_ again, completely hiding his hurt with a blob of ink. _I really miss you guys. It's hard to be, like, the only kid in Gryffindor who doesn't have any parents. _There, Neville paused, biting his lip, and once again put his quill to the paper. _I know that I do still have Gram, but it's not the same as having parents to take care of me. It's sometimes hard to be me. I'm not the smartest wizard, nor the most athletic, and I really suck at quidditch. I also sometimes get picked on, but that's not important. What's important is that I actually have good friends even when I'm… Me. Can you believe that I'm friends with HARRY POTTER? I mean, wow, he's great. Really nice and brave. I wonder if I could ever be like him. Probably not, but I can try. He always stands up for me and taught me how to stand up for myself. One time, Ron and me fought Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle after they insulted us! They now know not to mess with Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom! We taught them a real lesson. I know that I might not be the best wizard, the most powerful, the funniest, or even the most brave, but I do know some things. I'm Neville Longbottom. Good at Herbology, a trusted friend of Harry Potter, a Gryffindor, and the person who won the Gryffindor house the House Cup in the first year! And I know this: even if I am a bumbling idiot like everyone says, I am your son, and they can't say otherwise. _

_Sincerely, Neville Longbottom_

**Whew! And… Cut! Thank you for reading everyone, and if you can, please review! Happy holidays everyone, have a nice winter season!**

**-Audrey**


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